


i want carnations for the table (& a man to give them to me)

by GayLittleEarring



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Friends to Lovers, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Valentine's Day, florist!joe, look ma im tagging fics correctly, ridiculously indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayLittleEarring/pseuds/GayLittleEarring
Summary: Joe runs a flower shop on Valentine's day. Featuring: all his friends and all their romantic adventures, plus the man he's been secretly in love with for a veritable age.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 30
Kudos: 200





	i want carnations for the table (& a man to give them to me)

**Author's Note:**

> based on this post (schedule for a florist that says 'valentine's day hours- 8am 'til the last rose')

The very first rose went to Andy. 

This, before Joe had even opened up for the day—in all technicality, this before Valentine’s day was even something people were bothering to think about. February had barely started when Andy had sidled up to Joe, detailing her plan to get Quỳnh so fabulously exhausted the night before that she wouldn’t notice Andy slipping out of bed in the morning, to fetch fresh coffee and pastries and a single rose to adorn the tray of breakfast to be eaten in bed.

Joe, obviously, had felt his heart swell. As a florist who needed to pay rent, he loved Valentine’s day. As an artist, poet and romantic, he _loved_ Valentine’s day. Also, Joe loved scheming and surprising his friends with things that would bring them joy, so he had agreed to let Andy have first pick before she’d finished her sentence. 

She’d even woken up early for this—something Andy did not do very easily. But seven thirty came and went with Andy in Joe’s workshop, each trailing their fingers to find the darkest and most beautiful bloom. 

When he found it, Joe had snipped it with a feeling of thorough satisfaction. 

“This most beautiful rose,” Joe said grandly, presenting it to Andy. “To compare to your wife’s most profound beauty.”

Andy punched him on the shoulder lightly, with a smile that said her agreement was wholehearted. 

Carefully wrapping the first rose of Valentine’s day in protective plastic, Joe waved away Andy’s money. Quỳnh had had a very long year since last Valentine’s day, and Joe found enough pleasure in giving her something to brighten her day a little bit.

He sent Andy off, back to her wife and their warm bed, with a bright smile and a light heart.

Celeste pulled up on her bike right as Andy was leaving and they waved at each other.

“A good and beautiful morning to you, my favourite employee!” Joe said, opening his arms for a hug.

“Your only employee,” Celeste said, returning his hug with one arm and trying to keep her bike balanced with the other. “That for Quỳnh?”

Joe shrugged. “Who else?”

Celeste smiled, face open and soft. “Quỳnh ordered a bouquet to be delivered to their house in half an hour. Think I can beat Andy home?” At this, she gestured at her bike—the basket tied to her steering wheel with zipties and hope. 

Joe laughed and offered Celeste coffee.

The second rose, then, went to Quỳnh. And the third, fourth, fifth—Quỳnh did nothing by halves and the bouquet was so big it barely fit in Celeste’s basket. Joe watched her wobble her way down the street, glad Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment wasn’t all that far.

He smoothed his hands down his apron. On regular days, it was a dark green with a lighter pocket for scissors and shears, but Joe had spent the previous evening painstakingly sewing pink and red hearts to strategic spots.

He’d been on a call with Nicky while he crafted, listening to his favourite person complain about a book Joe had never read. He smiled now, as his fingers caught on the edge of the heart he had sewn on crooked while laughing too hard to pay attention to his work.

That was all the time Joe had for reveries, though, as customers started to slowly trickle in and his thoughts were once more consumed by roses.

The next rose was Booker’s, as Joe had known it would be. Booker was not a very punctual person, but Valentine’s day was the exception, a habit born from Booker’s marriage to Adèle that extended well into her passing.

By this time the shop was busy with romantics, but Joe excused himself after finishing up with the woman buying a packet of rose seeds—Joe had complimented her creativity—to come from behind the counter and hug his friend fiercely.

Booker patted his back.

“How are you today, mon ami?”

Booker winced. “Celeste and I will need to work on your pronounciation. Ask me again tomorrow.”

His voice was tired with emotion, but he had smiled at Joe’s exaggerated accent which Joe decided to count as a win. 

“I’ll be glad to go see her, though,” Booker continued, quietly. “Speak with her for a little while.”

“Good.” Joe produced a white rose, big-petalled as if it dreamed of being a cloud rather than a lowly flower. “One rose for Adèle, say hello to her from me.”

Booker nodded shortly, then turned on his heel and headed out the door towards the cemetery. Joe knew he was getting better, but holidays spent without Adèle were hard—none more than the days meant to be spent with those one loved. 

Joe returned to his waiting customers with a sigh of sadness for his friend.

Lykon came in around eleven. Lykon was a regular, would have come even if it was not that famed day of love, and Joe was happy to see him as he always was. Maybe moreso for being able to relax after the morning rush was over. 

The crowd had mostly thinned, and Lykon sat a while, chit-chatting with Joe as he went over his stock of roses still left.

“So,” Joe said with a knowing smile. Lykon was very easy to love, his big charming smile and easy sort of confidence—and perpetual single status—seeing him surrounded by beautiful people often. “How many Valentines have you gotten today?”

“None,” Lykon cheeked. “But I haven’t gone home yet, so wait until I count the bouquets waiting for me on my doorstep.”

Joe laughed and pushed him off the counter, seeing him out the door with a pink rose in the button hole of his overcoat. 

“Nile! You’re right on time,” Joe spread his hands over the last two roses, on the counter by the till instead of in the back room. He had already sent Celeste home for the day, waving away her offer for help cleaning up. Joe knew she had a special someone who deserved her time today, and had slipped a rose in her bike’s basket with a wink. Celeste had blushed fiercely, but kissed his cheek in thanks.

Now it was just Joe and Nile, who came in every Valentine’s day to buy a rose for herself. Joe admired the dedication to self-love and held the second to last rose out to her with a small bow. 

“One rose for my dear friend.”

Nile plucked it from his fingers with a curtsy of her own. 

“Thanks, Joe.” Then she hesitated, twirling the rose between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes were on the last rose.

“Something wrong?” Joe asked. Nile was chewing the inside of her cheek, lips curled—and suddenly Joe noticed she was wearing lipstick.

He tilted his head back to assess her. Her braids were piled on top of her head, little gold rings making her look both daintiy and angelic and regal all at once. Her outfit, too, was much less casual than what she tended to go for on a self-love day. Joe smiled widely.

“Oh, I _see_.” He winked. “You’re coming for _two_ roses, today.”

Nile ducked her head to hide her smile. “Yes, please.”

“Well, whoever it is,” Joe said holding out the second rose, realising now how it matched her lipstick, “just remember to use protection, and that Andy will tear them limb from limb if they mistreat you.”

“Oh my god- Joe!” Nile clapped her hands over her ears. Her smile was radiant—Joe loved to make her smile like that, indulgent and full of the joy of being doted on. “I’m not listening to this, I’m leaving!”

She released one of her ears to reach for the rose and Joe opened his mouth as if to continue speaking. She squealed and covered her ear again, hurrying out the door.

“I love you!” Joe called after her. “Have fun!”

“Love you too,” she looked back over her shoulder. “See you on Friday!”

Joe sighed and looked around his empty shop. Most people had come in for roses, of course, but much of his stock had sold today. The bin of sunflowers sat almost empty, something Joe felt pleased by, a strange pride for his own favourite flower. Orchids, lilies and tulips had all sold mostly out, pink and red ones going before the other colours. Even some of his succulents in pots had gone out the door. 

Joe felt satisfaction, looking around him, to know he had been able to help spread love and joy into the world today, but all the excitement had left him a little drained as well.

He stretched and was about to turn the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ when he saw Nicky approach. Joe felt his heart flutter in his chest and could do nothing to stop the heartsick smile tugging at his lips.

They had gotten off very much on the wrong foot, all those years ago when Andy and Quỳnh had wanted to integrate their respective friend groups, but after being forced to make nice for years they had fallen into a deep friendship—and Joe had realised recently his feelings for Nicky had tumbled headfirst from the platonic into the devotedly romantic entirely by accident.

Nicky’s face lit up as he saw Joe, and Joe waved stupidly through the glass of the door. Nicky waved back, then pushed into the shop. 

“Hi.” He said it very quietly, not needing to speak up to be heard—the shop was empty and Joe hadn’t moved back from the door quite far enough. They were standing very close indeed.

“Hi.”

“Are you closing up?” Nicky asked, quickly glancing around. His face fell a little bit. “Oh, did you sell all your roses?”

“Yes!” Joe said, brightly. “Business was very good today, which is good news for you because next time we have dinner you can keep your wallet in your jeans.”

“You know I don’t mind paying,” Nicky replied automatically, then bit his lip. “But… I was hoping I could have bought a rose.”

“Ah-” Joe’s voice cracked a bit. He’d still count it as a win, still better than the wounded noise he had wanted to let out at that statement. 

Nicky was rubbing his hands across his thighs like he did when he was in distress. Joe could feel his own heart breaking, just a little bit. He turned to the counter, fetching his spray bottle and wiping the dirt away with an intense focus, just until he could get his expression under control again.

“Sorry,” he said to the counter. “I just sold Nile the last one.”

Briefly, he considered feeling vindicated by this—happy that whoever Nicky’s rose was for was missing out—but the urge passed as soon as it had come. He couldn’t hate someone that Nicky loved. Nicky would only bring them to movie night and Joe would love them merely for their ability to make Nicky laugh without restraint.

Joe was too much of a romantic to be jealous of Nicky’s affections, even if they would never be directed at him.

“There’s more florists in the city,” Joe said with a forced lightness. “I won’t be mad if you betray me by buying from one of them.”

Nicky looked at him, expression inscrutable. Then he nodded once, decisively.

“Alright. Thank you, Joe.”

Joe didn’t watch him leave.

This was the other side of the coin, then. Spending Valentine’s day watching his friends love without reservations, going home to write the poetry of his lonely heart on scraps of paper that were destined to be re-used for grocery lists or chores he’d otherwise forget to do. 

Joe tried so hard not to wallow. He really wished Nicky all the happiness in the world, wanted that for this wonderful man more than anything else—or, no, wanted that more than _most_ things. What he really wanted was for Nicky to be able to find that happiness in Joe.

But he would have to suffer through it. He wasn’t selfish. He’d repeat that to himself as much as necessary, a mantra as he meticulously organised his shop.

He moved at a snail’s pace, not wanting to return home too soon. He didn’t want to spend the evening on his couch, fat orange cat putting all his weight on Joe’s bladder as he binge-watched this or that show about weddings, but if the other option was to go out and watch people much younger than him fall in love with each other for the night… at least Mango purred when Joe scratched him just right.

He grit his teeth as his heart clenched in loneliness, willing himself to lighten up. The tinkle of the bell above the door and Nicky’s voice distracted him from his melancholy.

“Joe? Are you still here?”

“In the back!” Joe replied, wiping his hands on his apron. He had decided to repot some plants that needed no repotting, just to have something else to do until he could put off going home no longer. He wondered why Nicky would return—if he hadn’t found the rose he was looking for, Joe wouldn’t be able to help him any more than any other florist. “Did you forget something?”

“Yes,” Nicky said, appearing in the doorway. He was flushed, hair in disarray as if he had run all the way across the city. He held a rose between two fingers, a beautiful and healthy damask bloom. Joe looked at it appraisingly—it was different from the traditional, long-stemmed red rose he had sold so many of today, but it was large and soft-looking, and Joe found himself surprised that Nicky had been able to find one of such quality so late in the day. 

Whoever had Nicky’s eye and heart was a very lucky person. Joe wondered why Nicky wasn’t with them right now. Then he realised quite how close Nicky had crowded into him.

Joe’s heart, unbothered by clichés, skipped a beat.

“I forgot to tell you,” Nicky said, rose held in the space between their bodies. “Or, not tell you—I forgot to ask…”

Joe swallowed. He could hear it click in his throat. 

“I-” Nicky’s breath hitched. 

“Don’t lose your nerve now,” Joe whispered, feeling warm all the way down to his toes. “Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Nicky laughed very quietly. Joe could feel his breath across his own cheeks. “You’ve been waiting? I wish you’d said.”

Joe looked up from where he had been staring at the rose, quite unable to believe the turn of events happening in the backroom of his flower shop. His fingers were still covered in dirt, thumb leaving a smear beneath Nicky’s eye where he cradled his cheeks between his hands.

“Yes,” Joe agreed, grinning. “I feel quite stupid, now.”

Nicky shook his head. “Not stupid. You might have robbed me of my grand romantic gesture.”

Joe laughed, giddy and gleeful. “Oh you’ve changed your mind?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Nicky nodded very earnestly before breaking into a grin. The rose was quite forgotten between them. “Joe. Can I kiss you now?”

In the end, Joe still spent the evening watching wedding shows on his couch. The only difference was Mango’s place in Nicky’s lap and their hands, which lay linked between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> title from the poem 'prayer of supplication' by patrick kindig, a poem that could not be more tonally different to this fic if it tried. 
> 
> i'm on tumblr @ marwankenzarisgaylittleearring if you want to say hi! happy valentine's day <3
> 
> edited to add: everyone keeps commenting on mango and i just wanted to say that was intended as a nod to my friend av who came up with that name, but now everyone's complimenting ME about it when it should be going to THEM 😩 their cat naming skills are better than mine and everyone should manifest them GETTING a cat (crystalball)


End file.
